His Lion
by GloriousHorrors
Summary: For five years, she kept him at bay. Telling him time and time again that he was not to come in between Vanessa and Gordon. She was to be raised by her father and no one else. It was clear now, that she wasn't necessarily being untruthful. Vanessa was being raised by her father. (Vanessa and Malcolm Story). AU. Possible TBC.
1. The Problem with Propriety

**A/N: Okay, I have dabbled in fanfiction before, but this is my first time really getting into a fandom enough to actually publish something.**

 **This is definitely an AU sort of drabble. It's flashback as of now and I'm still trying to decide if I'll follow the plot of the show or go in a completely different direction. Or I might just leave it as a One-shot. I will defer to you guys on that.**

 **Please review and let me know how I did!**

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

No one had ever bothered telling him that having a daughter would be this difficult.

His little girl was the prettiest on the coast and he hated the idea of her growing up. By the age of one, it was plain to see that she would be breaking the hearts of every boy in Europe.

Peter was four when she was born and even he was enamored by the gorgeous infant in the fancy lace stroller. Her large shining eyes and rosy cheeks were what most would consider normal on a child has fair as she, but they were even more remarkable because they belonged to her.

He, along with her mother, witnessed her first steps together. It was on the beach with waves crashing in the background. On a windy day such as it was, walking was quite difficult for anyone, but his little warrior pushed herself from her spot beside him on the blanket and began toddling towards the water as if she had done it a thousand times.

They were so thrilled with the sudden development that they almost didn't get to her in time. He raced forward and swept her into his arms right as another giant wave crested in the spot where she'd been.

He kissed her wild curls, damp and salted from the sea, and whispered praises to her before handing her back to her mother.

Claire beamed, tossing the girl into the air to produce sweet giggles rather than the cries that normally came with being picked up unexpectedly.

"Oh, wait until we tell daddy!"

At her words, Malcolm's face fell.

That's right. This wasn't his moment to enjoy.

Because in a proper world, full of rules and facades, this wasn't his daughter. Even though the two were perfectly aware of the conception made in the midst of their affair, it was their silent agreement to not mention it to either of their spouses. Because what good would that do?

So he bit his tongue throughout every meal as Gordon, a lazy little man who had been blessed with a thriving lineage, boasted about the things his 'Little Nessie' did for him that day. As though the only time the child did anything of value were in the single hour that he spent outside of his study.

While Malcolm, a man who before that year had always been on the move-in one country after the other, hunting the next great thing-spent every moment he could with the girl.

And because Gladys was so busy caring for their home as well as a rambunctious boy and because Gordon was a buffoon, no one picked up on the oddity of the usually stoic man's fascination with the little Ives Girl.

It didn't take long for Vanessa to notice though.

Were it ever just her fathers-one biological and the other in name alone-in the room with her, she always chose Malcolm. In fact, Malcolm was the only one who had ever been allowed to pick her up after she started walking. She was independent from everyone but him. And it warmed his heart.

Things changed when Mina came along. Of course, the arrival of his second daughter had him just as elated, if not even a little more so because he could call this one his own. But with his attentions now drawn to the chubby little newborn in the old Murray Bassinet, he couldn't help but feel as though he were abandoning Vanessa.

She had turned one the month before and she was becoming more and more aware of who was important in her life. Her inquisitive blue eyes would squint up at him when he would leave Ives Manor immediately after Thursday dinners when normally he would stick around to read her a bedtime story (followed by at least three or four more). So instead of leaving a sleeping tot in her nursery, he walked out listening to the wails of a little girl who wanted more time with her 'Mowl-Mowl'.

Her father.

But as time went on, the sable haired girl learned to appreciate the family she had. Of course, she adored her mother-Claire Ives, as charming as she was, was easily lovable. Gordon remained a background player in her upbringing. He paid for her tutors, her riding lessons, and her toys but he never sat to have tea with her and Mr. Pewter (her stuffed bear).

It wasn't until the week after her fifth birthday that Malcolm was reminded of just how precious his older girl was.

Ever since she was born, snow seemed to come sooner with each winter. Life before Vanessa brought snowfall in January or late December at the soonest. But now, as though Mother Nature deemed her worthy of a personal gift, it would begin in the latter part of November. And she always got a winter wonderland themed celebration.

Of course, Vanessa's idea of celebrating was sledding down the big hill behind the Murray house again and again until nightfall.

Claire had been so thrilled to put the little girl in a light blue dress covered in bows and ruffles. And with Vanessa being the polite child she was, she allowed it. She even sat still so that her nanny could tie the matching bow into her ringlets.

"Mommy put it up!" She would beg. She hated having her long hair in her face when she ate. But it was ladylike to wear it down for all to see.

Malcolm beamed at the sight of the boisterous child when he came over with Peter. Gladys was home with Mina who always came down with earaches at temperature drop. And with a stuffy nose on top of that, the Murray's thought it best not to give Vanessa influenza as a gift.

"Sir Malcolm, look at what I got!" The Birthday Girl was in front of him before he even made it into the parlor. In her arms was a large doll-nearly half her size-which bore a striking resemblance to the child holding it. Vanessa, ever the actress, kept her tone chipper but it was clear to him that she despised the new toy.

He grinned and patted the doll's head before leaning down to kiss the cheek of the real thing. "My, what a lovely new friend." He commented, shaking Gordon's hand and leaning down to kiss Claire's cheek.

The parlor was overrun with decorations-pink and silver-and many gifts from her parents and relatives. Malcolm had set his own presents to her on the table next to the rest. As was tradition, she would open them all before teatime.

Peter was going through a stage of distaste for his young neighbor. It might have been due to Gladys's constant teasing that she would someday be his betrothed (which made Malcolm's stomach churn with disgust) or it was possible that he was just going through that stage children go through. In any case, the boy made a beeline for the overstuffed chair in the corner and went back to reading his book.

Vanessa paid him no mind. She was by no means spoiled, but on her birthday-when there was nothing but gifts, cake, and attention lavished upon her-she couldn't help but focus on herself. Either way, the next day she would be walking the path over to the Murray house with a wagon full of new toys to share with Mina. She had always pitied the younger girl because she had a mean older brother who took joy in tearing off her stuff animals' limbs and lighting her dollhouses on fire.

"Oh, darling, don't forget Matilda." Gordon picked up the doll that Vanessa had conveniently left on the floor by the sofa.

It was then obvious who had chosen the ill-suited gift.

Stopping mid-step on the way to pick out another present to open. Malcolm could see her wrinkle her nose and hold back a sigh before walking over to collect the eerie toy. "Thank you." She murmured, giving it a fake hug and carrying it with her.

Both Claire and Malcolm knew that 'Matilda' was going to end up forgotten on the shelves that lined the girls bedroom walls, just as her other past gifts from her father had.

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

He saw his girl every day after that.

She had received so many new things, that multiple trips were in order so that Mina-still a bit under the weather-could see it all.

Malcolm adored seeing both of his daughters sitting at the miniature table set drinking imaginary tea and nibbling on biscuits. If he tried just a little, he could pretend that he was just like any other father, reading his field guides while supervising his children.

But alas, each afternoon one of his beautiful angels went back to another house to be kissed goodnight by her mother and a sad excuse for a father.

There was a time in his life where Malcolm had actually respected Gordon Ives. He saw him as a smart man who was actually a decent friend on their lonely shore side estates. But there came a point in time where it was painfully clear that he wasn't worthy of having Vanessa as his child.

This was brought to light seven days and ten hours after she opened the stuffed lion he'd gotten for her from a market in Tanzania that fall. It had been her favorite gift that day.

Gladys and Claire had gone to London that weekend to see the new Spring Line. Mina had been going through a clingy stage with her mother at the time, so she joined them on their journey. Normally, with Gordon being so busy with whatever the hell it was he did in that study, Vanessa would sleep over at the Murrays. But with her playmate gone as well, it seemed pointless for her to be away from home.

With Peter already in bed for the evening, Malcolm took advantage of quiet and finalized his itinerary for the expedition coming up that March.

It was nearly midnight when Louis, Peter's nosey French Basset, began pawing at the front door-just outside of the study. Normally, one or two harsh reprimands sent the canine away to sleep at the foot of his young master's bed, but he was persistent tonight. Giving up any hope of finishing his work, Malcolm let out a sigh and went into the foyer to let the dog out.

Louis took off like a shot, moving swiftly towards the hedge maze. An oddity, given his perpetual fear of the winding structure since puppyhood.

Whistling once for him to return and then a second and third time, Malcolm tightened his mouth in frustration. With a growl he threw on his overcoat and trudged across the snow covered lawn. He would never hear the end of it if Peter woke up to find out his companion was lost out in the cold.

"Louis!" He kept his town light, trying not to frighten the animal further into the labyrinth with his natural demeanor. "Come here, boy!" How was one to speak with an animal that they _weren't_ about to kill?

A telltale guttural bark came from near the center of the maze. The damned thing was moving way too fast for this inclement weather. Malcolm picked up his pace and scanned the tall green walls surrounding him. He had designed the stupid thing, so he should have had no problem navigating it.

But of course, that wasn't the case.

It took him nearly fifteen minutes to follow the sound of Louis' wails. The dog hadn't changed position, which made life a little easier for the tired man, but a maze in the dead of winter was never going to be a piece of cake.

The hound was sniffing around a corner of one of the openings that held concrete benches and a small fountain. Malcolm wasn't sure if he'd been to this part before, but it had been years since he had traveled the whole thing.

"Come on you blasted creature." He was moving to grab the Louis' collar when his eyes fell on what had caught the dog's nose.

Vanessa was always a fair little girl. Her cheeks would often glow with a natural shade of pink and when her nose was cold it too turned scarlet. But right now, she was gray and blue.

With only her white lace nightgown on and a pair of thin slippers adorning her feet, she had absolutely nothing to ward off the cold. The icy, relentless cold. She looked to him with large cornflower eyes, pleading for something. It only took him two seconds to figure out what she needed.

In one swift motion, he removed his coat and wrapped it around the near frozen creature. Louis was trying to lick warmth into her cheek, but it was too late for that.

"Good boy." Malcolm whispered, patting the dog's head and standing with Vanessa wrapped in his arms. He pulled her close to him and pressed his lips to the top of her head-her hair was still damp from her evening bath. "Oh, my darling, what are you doing out here?" He had never scolded her in her life and he wasn't about to start now.

"I saw B-big T-T-Tom." She whimpered, her tiny fingers wrapping around the top of the coat when they failed to motion behind her like she'd intended.

A hiss replaced the curse that bubbled up in his throat. Damn Big Tom!

The Red Deer-with at least fourteen point antlers and a body the size of a moose-had been roaming the property for years. The children heard about the beast at least once a day from the time they were born. Sir Malcolm Murray had been an incredible huntsman on every continent, taking out lions, wild boar, and even a large bear, but he was constantly eluded by a deer on his home turf.

Of course his sweet child-the one most like him-would take it upon herself to help catch his greatest prey. She was the one to walk the woods with him that Spring when Tom made an appearance in Gladys's garden. Little Vanessa-armed with the toy gun he got her for Christmas-was quite a sight tiptoeing behind the large hunter. She wore an old pair of Peter's breeches with her floral dress tucked into them. The bow that had been pristinely tied into her neat curls that morning was now askew and as tangled as the hair surrounding it.

At first she had mastered the art of being covert, but her whispers gradually grew louder as the day went on. In the end, Malcolm didn't even care that she might scare off the deer. He just enjoyed spending time with her.

But he should have told her to never hunt alone. Of course, it wasn't a rule that he himself would ever abide by, but it was something should have been discussed with the adventurous girl. Just as they had explained to her the year before that it wasn't safe to climb onto the roof outside of her third story window in order to give a sparrow a piece of her biscuit. Or how a month ago, Claire pointed out that just because something _looks_ like a berry, doesn't mean it should be eaten.

Vanessa was bright. She was already reading books that Peter had finished that same year. She knew some Latin as well as French and she even learned basic arithmetic. But she was still a child. A brave and intuitive child.

As they had never learned to explain right from wrong to her, she in turn had never learned to ask.

He didn't remember finding his way out of the maze. He was just suddenly running through the front door of the Manor with Vanessa shivering in his arms and Louis on his heels.

"Go fetch the doctor!" Malcolm shouted at Nathaniel, the butler. He didn't wait for a response before darting up the staircase and making his way towards the closest guest room.

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

Dr. Epstein had been quite familiar with the Ives family ever since Vanessa's birth. With her being two months premature, she had been a regular patient from the very beginning. They got her through her turbulent first few months with regular checkups and thorough instructions, and everyone had been pleased with what a delightfully healthy child she'd turned into.

But as soon as she was crawling, they were in trouble again. The real danger started when she learned how to walk. With a mother as attentive as Claire and multiple nannies on staff, Vanessa still managed to climb onto every tall surface in the Ives Mansion. Twice she injured her right leg in the subsequent falls and once it was her collarbone.

Besides that, there were stitches, concussions, and sprains constantly being treated on the clumsy little thing.

Not since infancy though, had he needed to focus on her actual health.

"High fever, chills, and a touch of frostbite." Epstein informed Sir Malcolm as he came out of the child's room for the night. "She must have been outside for quite some time."

"She couldn't tell me herself." Malcolm's voice was muffled by the hand rubbing in front of it. "Will she be alright?"

"Try to keep her hydrated through the night and make sure she rests. That shouldn't be a problem given that she's already dozing off." Epstein told him. He didn't question why the Ives girl was at the Murray house. He didn't ask where _her_ father was and why it was going to be Sir Malcolm caring for her. In his business, it was important to be perceptive. And young Vanessa was the perfect combination of her mother and father.

And the father in that equation was not Gordon Ives.

With a promise to return the following morning, the doctor gave Malcolm a bottle of cough syrup and showed himself out.

Vanessa did not remain in the guest bed. Though she appeared to be in a deep sleep, tiny whimpers escaped her lips every time he so much as stepped away from her. And being a man with endless tasks needing to be completed, he couldn't simply sit there and allow himself to worry. To fear.

So he carried her down to the solarium. She was lying on the chaise by the fireplace, gazing up through the curved windows at the stars. Stubborn and brave, she was constantly getting up and wandering over to look over his shoulder at the map he was marking.

Finally, he settled for moving into an armchair with her in his lap as he looked over the half of the map he could fold over one of the arms. It wasn't the most thorough or comfortable way to prepare, but it kept his small ward still. She ended up with her head resting on his chest-a tiny ear listening to his heart-and her legs sprawled, one over his lap and the other hanging down towards the floor.

Nothing about her was graceful. But that made her all the more dear to him.

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

It was Nina, Vanessa's nanny who finally came looking for her.

The doorman led her back to the solarium that morning. Malcolm was still in the chair with the child sleeping soundly in his arms. They hadn't moved all night. He dozed off for a couple of hours but forced himself to remain alert in order to care for her if need be.

"She will remain here until her mother returns this evening." He told Nina in a hushed tone. "Please let Mr. Ives know that his child is safe and being cared for."

The young woman, always terrified of the intimidating neighbor so invested in her charge's life, wanted to argue. But she swallowed her words. It wasn't her place.

Sir Malcolm wished he had been surprised by Gordon's failure to come and demand the return of his child-not that he would have even thought to surrender her if he did-but alas, it was the norm. Mr. Ives had never truly wanted the burden of caring for another, so why would he take on the responsibility of nursing his daughter back to health when someone was already willing to do so?

Claire arrived that evening. When she walked into the den she couldn't stop the soft smile that appeared at the sight of her sleepy daughter playing on the floor at Sir Malcolm's feet. Vanessa was still quite pale except for the dark patches of pink on her gaunt cheeks. Dark circles beneath her stunning eyes almost made her look skeletal, but the hums coming from her mouth offset it.

Not wanting to startle the pair-each quite absorbed in their respective tasks-she cleared her throat prior to speaking. "Is there a lost kitten in here?"

That month, Vanessa was a kitten. But unlike most children, this role did not stop at tiny meows and using her father's chair as a scratching post. No, this meant that she was climbing trees and jumping up on the counter to carelessly knock over the glassware sitting atop it. The servants, though quite accustomed to the child's vivid-and accurate-imagination, were slightly peeved at the extra mess they were provided.

But now, it appeared that her five year old was too weak to pretend. Something she never thought she'd see.

Vanessa still gave her a soft smile in response to the inquiry, but continued to sleepily play with her toy lion. Currently the stuffed creature was climbing up Sir Malcolm's leg as though it were a mountain cliff.

The man himself had looked up from his drawing table and was watching his lover with wary eyes. Was he to face her wrath for essentially abducting her child for the past day and a half? Was she going to take the girl away and never let him see her again? Or worse; was she going to remind him that despite the blood running through her tiny veins, Vanessa wasn't his daughter?

Instead, Claire Ives once again surprised him. She walked over and embraced him, with a tight and almost desperate hug.

"I'm so sorry." She whispered to him, her voice hitching.

Malcolm was baffled. Why would _she_ apologize to _him_? He pulled back to look at her and verbalized that very question. "What ever are you sorry for my dear?"

"Gordon should never have just dropped her in your lap like this." Claire sniffled and knelt down beneath the table so that she could gather Vanessa into her arms. She let out a sympathetic coo when she rested her cheek against the top of the girl's head. "Oh she's so warm."

Still slightly flummoxed, Sir Malcolm stood from his chair to give the two more space on the floor where his feet had been. Pacing over to the fireplace, he lit his pipe and glanced down at them. His gorgeous little girl and her equally breathtaking mother. Such torture it was to live without them day-by-day.

"How did you get so sick angel?" Claire was whispering as she pressed her lips to the child's damp curls.

Vanessa, remembering the harsh reprimand she had received that morning from Sir Malcolm, looked contrite. She gazed up at her mother with wide blue eyes, hoping to deter another scolding with her best puppy-dog eyes. "I got lost looking for Big Tom." Her voice was still raspy from both her raw throat and stuffy nose, but she was as articulate as ever. "He went in the maze...I know it's bad. I won't do it again!"

The last thing on Claire's mind was chastising though. She looked to the man, now staring into the fire as though it were a window into the unknown. "What does she mean?"

Gordon had only told her that Vanessa had grown ill and Sir Malcolm was caring for her. He really had no other explanation for her. And she honestly didn't expect much else. So she donned her coat and hurried across the lawn towards the Murray Residence. When she arrived, Gladys and Mina were still removing their coats in the foyer. Claire sheepishly told them what she knew and inquired on the whereabouts of Malcolm and consequently, her daughter.

Concerned, and also a little confused, Mrs. Murray pointed her towards the room they both knew that her husband occupied more than half of the time.

And that brought them to the here and now.

The almost rhetorical question she had asked her daughter brought forth a response that she hadn't quite expected.

This wasn't from her playing in the snow all morning the day before? This wasn't just a case of the same thing that had effected little Mina the week prior?

No, this was from her going after a damned deer. Her imaginative child, looking for adventure from the day she was born, was chasing the mythical creature that only Sir Malcolm had ever seen.

Seeing the accusation welling up in her eyes, Malcolm let out a sigh. "I found her in the maze." He told her. "Well, the dog found her, and led me there."

"The _dog_?" Claire looked to the hound that had been known to use every brand new rug that Gladys had acquired as his own personal bathroom. "The dog found her?"

"She was in the middle of the maze. In her nightgown." He hated seeing her terror grow with each word he said, but she needed to know what it was that brought her daughter to this state. "From what she tells me, she had to have been out there for three or four hours. She said she snuck out of her room right after her nanny tucked her in."

 _Her nanny. Not her father._ He added internally. What kind of father doesn't even see their own child off to bed when he's home to do so himself. Malcolm was away a lot on expeditions, but he made a point to kiss the children goodnight when he was there. He would never make them feel inadequate.

Claire gasped and looked to Vanessa. The girl was biting her bottom lip apprehensively. Again, she received no comeuppance.

Nor did Sir Malcolm.

"And you brought her here?" Her voice was soft with realization. She looked down at her daughter and brushed her hair from her eyes. "Did you have a nice weekend sweetheart?"

Vanessa perked up and nodded. "I had ice cream for breakfast." She said with cheeky grin. "And Sir Malcolm made a smiling face in it with blueberries."

"Did he?"

"Yes. And he read me a book about lions in Africa. Mommy, can I go to Africa next week?" She pleaded. She had spent all day perched on Sir Malcolm's knee alternating between listening to him read about lions and then watching him plan out his trip to see them in person.

Claire could only laugh as she shook her head. "No darling. You're still too small." She said with false regret. "Maybe when you're a little older."

As this was the answer she received for most of her outlandish requests, Vanessa took it well with a resigned nod. "Yes, when I'm older." She smiled up at Malcolm and flashed him a dimple. "I can go then, right?"

The man could only return her grin. "I'll save you a seat right next to me on the train." Because even if these were just words to humor her, even if they were only placing a pin in what was sure to be a discussion that would soon fade away, he wanted her to know that she would be safe on this hypothetical journey. There was no way in hell he would let her go without him there on her side.

For a moment, there was a peaceful silence in the den. Gladys had wished her husband goodnight just before Claire had arrived, so the house was now still. Even the sounds of Mina crying from her nursery-irritated at being sent to bed when others deigned to be awake without her-were gone this evening.

"Thank you." Claire finally whispered, pulling her daughter tighter against her chest. "You...I uh...Well, thank you."

Malcolm furrowed his brows and pursed his lips. "Please don't thank me." He whispered. "I only did what any father would do...for someone else's child."

The pointed delivery of the latter part was not lost on either of them. But they both knew it to be true. Regardless of Vanessa's paternity, Malcolm would have taken her in knowing that she wouldn't be treated properly without her mother home. He was doing what was best for the girl. But the fact that she was _his_ girl was what made it all the more heart wrenching.

For five years, she kept him at bay. Telling him time and time again that he was not to come in between Vanessa and Gordon. She was to be raised by her father and no one else. It was clear now, that she wasn't necessarily being untruthful.

Vanessa _was_ being raised by her father.

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

 **TBC?**


	2. The Boy Down the Lane

**A/N: So I decided where I would take this story, and it is going to be SUPER AU in a sense. All of the characters will remain the same, but they will be introduced differently and will have different outcomes for the sake of this story. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but I'm giving it a shot!**

 **I'm going to estimate that Vanessa was 28 in the first episode of Penny Dreadful (which was in 1891, right), putting her birth year at around 1863. So that's where we are. I'm not an expert Historian-or even a mediocre one at that-so I'm not familiar about what was invented when and what happened when, but I am learning what I can via the internet. So while I am not throwing random things in there without a care, I am still not 100% sure how accurate it is!**

 **So please feel free to tell me if there's anything that seems iffy.**

 **Let me know what you guys think of this story. I'll probably keep writing until I'm blocked, but hopefully some input will keep me motivated!**

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

The girls were eight and they were beginning to look like young ladies rather than children.

Vanessa still went home with ripped tights and bruised knees and elbows nearly every night, but her etiquette at tea time and dinner began to improve with her mother's teaching. All-in-all, the intelligent girl knew when to be 'Van, the Adventurer' and when to be 'Miss. Vanessa Ives'.

Given the choice though, she always preferred a day assisting Malcolm in the Solarium helping him mount his latest kill. He hadn't allowed her to touch any of the works yet, because she was to remain his pure Vanessa. She was too kind and loving to hold the dead in her hands. She was better off giving the small mountain cats and birds of prey funny little names.

"Pandora!" She had proudly called the ape he had bagged the summer before.

Every dead creature had a name. And every name stuck with it. She said that naming it gave it life again.

He grinned at the canvas sack across from him in the buggy. What would she name this Giant Eagle Owl he just bagged in the Sahara? He never told her the gender, thinking it most entertaining when she came up with the name without knowing. She never seemed to mind doing it that way.

The cart pulled up in front of his house, just as four figures came running across the gravel driveway. It was when he was stepping out of the back that the smaller of the quartet fell forward and slid a couple inches towards him. He nearly dropped his cane when he saw the long black curls that belonged to the clumsy one.

"Oh my darling..." But before he could move to help her, the second boy in the group of children-one he had never seen before-beat him to it.

"Are you okay Nessa?" The kid asked, concern lacing his voice as he gripped the tiny girl's arm and guided her gently back onto her feet.

Malcolm's nose curled at the American accent. _Where the hell did he come from?_

Vanessa nodded breathlessly and brushed her hands against her dress to get the dirt out of the small scrapes in the palms. Her mother had luckily started dressing her in darker clothes to hide the countless grass (and sometimes blood) stains. "Yes." She smiled at the boy with shaggy brown hair. "I was just excited."

"Please try to be careful dear." Sir Malcolm knelt down to pat Peter's head before pulling the two girls into his arms. "Oh, how I missed you children!"

"Father, this is Ethan Chandler!" Mina exclaimed as soon as she pulled back. She gestured the lanky kid standing only inches away from Vanessa still, probably making sure she didn't take another spill on his watch.

Peter continued for his sister whose introduction was cut short when she saw a new kind of flower in the garden across the driveway. "His family just moved into the old Lockhorne Estate." He said, a small grin lighting his face. "And he's _my_ age father! Finally! No more stupid girls!"

Malcolm laughed at his twelve year old's persistent disdain their female dominated world. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you Ethan." He shook the boy's hand. "Now, if you will excuse me, it looks like _someone_ needs a bandage!"

He swooped down to pick Vanessa up with his free arm while the other toted his cane as well as the bag with the owl in it. Mina ran in behind them, leaving the boys outside to continue their game of tag. When they got to the kitchen, Malcolm set his older girl on the counter before lifting the younger one up to join her.

"Were you two good for your mothers while I was away?" He asked poking each of their noses before going over to the cabinets to collect the first aid supplies. They kept an extra set handy in just about every room of the house now that they had two clumsy children living there and a third frequently visiting.

Both of them bobbed their heads up and down in earnest. "Father had to speak with Mr. Tomesin this morning, so I'm to stay out of the house." Vanessa recited, unfazed by the banishment.

She despised Edgar Tomesin. The old man owned the property just behind the Ives' six hundred acres and he was constantly over trying to convince Gordon to spare a few meters here and there so that he could add on to his elaborate garden.

When Vanessa was four, her father gave in and allowed the gentleman a small lot. This resulted in Tomesin running over a den of rabbits the child had been monitoring with his cast-iron push mower.

Naturally, the little spitfire charged the man when he came to their front door complaining that the body of the animal he'd destroyed had broken his mower. Luckily, Claire was already up that morning and she was able to help Gordon and the butlers pry the child of less than three stones off of the man's neck.

On any other day Tomesin would have a face full of scratches and a bruised throat, but because little Vanessa always minded her mother; he walked away with nothing more than a bit of shock and a lot of rage.

So now, even four years later, the old man refused to come over if _'that little brat'_ were there.

To that, Malcolm would have happily refused the man entrance into his home from then on out. But because Gordon Ives was a pushover, he simply chased his daughter away allowed the irritable bastard over.

"What does Mean Mr. Tomesin want now?" Malcolm asked, deepening his voice into a monster-like growl, eliciting laughter from the girls.

"His wife died." Mina said as soon as she sobered.

"Poor Mrs. Tomesin had influenza." Vanessa continued wrinkling her nose. "She was so old and her body just gave up. That's what mother says."

 _'Yes, I'd give up too if I lived with a fustilug like Edgar.'_ He kept this to himself, not wanting to teach his children that it was okay to make light of something as tragic as death. Instead, he kept his mouth closed as he gently dabbed Vanessa's skinned hands and knees with a damp rag. She didn't even flinch, as she was quite accustomed to having her wounds treated.

"He wants to have a party or something for her in our Music Room." Vanessa said conversationally, sticking her leg out straight so that he would have an easier time wrapping it. "I heard him and father in there when I came in to get my sweater...Oh blazes! I left it on the beach!" She quickly switched gears when she realized that her arms were bare.

Malcolm could see that she was beginning to fret and assumed that it was her favorite sweater that was at stake. The thick, cream-colored angora cardigan that had once been her mother's was threadbare and by no means flattering, but she adored it. So there was no question as to what would be next on their agenda.

"We'll go down and retrieve it as soon as we finish up here." He promised her, ruffling her curls.

The Owl could wait.

 **/\\\\\/\\\\\**

Even with summer fast approaching, the air was still quite cold. Sir Malcolm made sure both of the girls were in overcoats before making the short trek to the beach. His Mina, a plump little cherub was already a size larger than Vanessa, making it easy to find something that fit the tinier girl.

"Could we go to the carnival next weekend?" Mina asked. Her fingers were wrapped around Malcolm's left hand. She was always on the left and Vanessa on the right. It was never a spoken assignment; it was just how it went.

Cringing, Malcolm tilted his head as they reached the path that would take them through the front gate and towards the rocky shore. The 'Carnival' was nothing more than rigged games and sideshows that would likely terrify the children-well most of the children. Something told him that his raven haired darling wouldn't be disconcerted in the least at the sight of a two headed pig.

"Perhaps." He finally said, knowing that any form of refutation would be met with a slew of pleading that he'd be unable to resist. If nothing else, he'd take them to watch the pie eating contest and on the pony rides. Gladys would more than likely want to attend as well-she was a sucker for the many new gadgets and gizmos showcased every year.

Just as they were approaching the top of the path, Ethan and Peter appeared from the brush. While his son continued on towards the house, calling out that he was going to retrieve some water, the other boy remained. In his arms was a fuzzy ivory bundle.

"You left this on the rocks." He said with a sheepish smile.

Vanessa beamed and released Malcolm's hand so that she could take the sweater from the young American. "Thank you Ethan." She was unusually demure as she ducked her head and moved closer into Sir Malcolm's side. "We were just going to fetch it."

"I didn't want you to get cold." Ethan said, sniffing and rubbing his hands together to warm them.

Malcolm wasn't sure what to make of this boy. He was American and wealthy, but he had the manners of the English. There was no haughtiness and he spoke to the girls as he would peers. Even Peter hadn't mastered that skill.

Speaking of which, his son was shouting out from somewhere behind them, asking that his new friend hurry up so they could finish whichever adventure they had started.

"Good afternoon." Ethan smiled at Vanessa and Mina before standing at attention and giving the man a firm nod. "Sir Malcolm."

Amused, Malcolm returned the gesture. "Sir Ethan."

When the boy scampered off once again, Mina let out a tiny giggle. "He fancies Vanessa." She whispered to her father, tugging on his hand.

"Hush Mina!"

"He walked beside her the whole morning and asked her so many questions!" The blonde squeaked and made kissing noises. " _And_ he went all the way down to the beach just to get her sweater!"

"It's because he's kind." Vanessa pointed out, taking Malcolm's hand again while clutching the sweater close to her chest and pressing it to her nose to inhale.

Taking pity on his normally poised and self-assured girl who was now reduced to a timid little puddle, the father leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "That's right dear." He agreed and turned to smile at Mina. "You might not know this dear, but some boys actually have manners. Your brother is a poor example for his kind."

"And a smelly one!" Mina added with a giggle.

This got both of the girls back into good spirits as they turned and went back towards the house. They continued to find different words to describe Peter and point out just how different he was from Young Mr. Chandler.

As soon as they were back through the gate, they let go of his hands and sped off in the direction of the maze in hopes of catching up with the boys.

Malcolm watched them go with a warm heart. For once, he felt completely content to let his girls out of his sight. He always worried for them-especially Vanessa with her foolhardiness-but now, that worry was but a faint flicker.

With one final look in their direction, he let out a small sigh. It looked like he would be on his own with the owl.

Vanessa could bring it to life another day.


End file.
